


Red Sky At Morning

by IntoTheFire



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU, Age Difference, Angst, Barebacking, Blood and Gore, Bloody Kisses, Carl Is ALIVE!, Character Development, Daddy Kink, Denial, F/M, Flirting, Gets Along With Simon, Gun Violence, Insanity, Jealousy, Kinks, Knife Kink, Lucille Violence, Masturbation, Mental Breakdown, Mentions of Rape, Negan Being Negan, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), POV Female Character, POV Original Character, Possessive Behavior, Protective Negan (Walking Dead), Protectiveness, Revenge, Rick Is ALIVE!, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Tension, Simon Friendship?, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2018-10-31 21:25:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10907763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntoTheFire/pseuds/IntoTheFire
Summary: It’s been a month since Celestia was taken in by the Saviours. Adjusting to the community is difficult after surviving on her own since everything began. It gets harder when their leader takes a particular interest in her. Though to her surprise, she begins to play more of a role at the Sanctuary than she bargained for.





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

 

Struggling for air, inhuman noises began escaping me, my entire body quaking where I stood. The rush to my head almost unbearable as another swing of the bat sends adrenaline coursing through me. My grip tightens as I block out everything else around me. Crimson soaking my hands and coating my face as I feel a slither down my tense cheek, suffocating in the strong stench of iron. I can't see clearly. My vision's blurry. All I can focus on are the distinct sounds of his skull caving in with every crunch and the sickly sounds of flesh breaking apart like a crushed tomato. Just, the unrecognisable mess he was turning into with each passing swing. Before I even realise, I'm... laughing in disbelief. I don’t know what to make of things anymore.. Only, was all this inevitable?

 

 

_Celestia!_

_…_

_Celestia! Fucking stay with us here! We’ve gotta move!_

 

 

Much like abruptly waking from a nightmare, I pant shakily and stare straight through the man desperately trying to get my attention, as I begin to process my surroundings again. Within a breath, he begins unloading bullets over my shoulder, enough to startle me for a moment. Suddenly remembering where I was, I join my companion and face the oncoming horde, holding them back as much as I could. I pick up movement beside me -  the others frantically loading crate upon crate of every scavenged supply into the back of our van. Though the unfaltering multitude of walking corpses, draws back my attention.

How can so many suddenly appear out of the coverts like this?  There were so many of them. Despite a group of us despatching, I feel like we're not making any difference at all to their numbers. They just keep coming. Closer. Like a swarm of ants to a carcass, they would be all over us instantly.

Shit. _Shit!_

I couldn’t help but feel acutely aware of how many shells we were using up. This isn’t working. But as soon as I think of going to assist with the provisions myself, I hear the others call us over the deafening sounds of gunshots. I instinctively sprint for our vehicle, practically leaping inside while our driver frantically kicks the engine into gear. Screeching tires and smell of burning rubber as we jolt forward at full throttle. I reach out to just barely pull the last person inside with a walker snapping at their heels, slamming the door shut. More of the undead began emerging from among the trees almost in every direction, causing the van to swerve at best to avoid colliding with any stragglers. 

“We better not lead them back. Fuck, fuck, fuck...” The man at the wheel began losing his nerve, blurting out a string of curses to himself and clamping his foot down on the pedal. 

The cluster of noises from the horde travel like a tidal wave as our ride pelts by, continuing to fall back from any more impending danger.

My heartbeat races the entire time, filling my ears, as I'm blind to what is happening outside. A silence falls inside the dark, sweltering van. All of us holding our breaths and curling in on ourselves. I clutch at my weapon, waiting for something to happen. I know I would sink into my stomach if we were to encounter more around the turning corner. I only pray that it won't happen. The sense of dread was filling me from head to toe, until amid all the chaos and haunting growls of never ending hunger, I suddenly hear the distant blare of something to the east. The amount of turning heads around me signifies I'm not the only one. Listening intently, it sounds like… a horn? Maybe from a large vehicle. Whatever it is, it sounds big. Big enough to reach wherever we are. 

Forcing myself up and looking out the window, a significant number of the herd had made a sharp turn in the direction of that noise, seemingly losing interest in us completely. That’s when I sink back down to my place with a loud sigh of relief; too busy composing myself to even listen to what the others were firing back and forth at each other. I tune back in eventually when they only raise their voices. For a second, I hope the blaring doesn't stop anytime soon, for our sakes. 

“The hell was that noise?” A male speaks harshly, moving his focus to each of our faces in the back.

“Had to be a horn... from a truck or something. Sounded miles away.” The driver responds, clutching harder at the wheel as he flicks his wide eyes to the rear mirrors. In the distance, he could probably spot the herd wandering back through the woods. The sight seems to gain his composure.

“Who'd be fucking stupid enough to do that though?” Another speaks up, in much contrast, sounding so casual about the matter whilst running a hand through his ruffled hair with a deep sigh.

“ _Nobody’s_ that stupid. Most likely an accident. Poor bastards.”

True. Either it was an accident, or some kind of tactic. A diversion, maybe? That seems like a smart idea. _Fucking risky and stupid_.. but smart. Though judging where our recent herd was wandering, it may backfire on them. Badly. I shouldn't really dwell on it too much, but despite not knowing who they are - and for all I know, they could be the worst kind of people in this world - I find myself feeling sorry for them for what's coming. 

“Whatever’s going on… that was hell of a lucky escape for us. Don’t think I could sleep at night knowing we could’ve lead them back. I don’t need shit like that on my conscience.”

"The fuck you talkin' about? Conscience? Morals don't mean shit anymore." A guy I didn't even know was sitting there, started gently nudging his foot on the driver's arm playfully. 

There isn't any trace of malice when the man grabs his ankle and shoves it away from him. I even hear him chuckle. It's odd, but refreshing how quickly panic talk can turn into friendly banter. The air seems just a little lighter now. 

“Even if they had followed, we would’ve shot 'em all down with the defence and firepower we have. Not to mention the amount of people.”

That might have been true, but the dead always manage to find a way in, and the uncertainty was enough to feed everyone’s paranoia. Some worse than others. Especially people who have been sheltered for a long time. It's just a matter of _when_ not _if._ With this lingering thought in mind, I keep quiet, looking down at my hands while they converse among themselves. Although I've done a few runs now with this group, I'm not really that familiar with them. They all seem pretty close to each other though; it honestly makes me feel a bit out of place. I was still a fairly new face here after -

“Never gets any easier does it, Celestia?” The gruff man at the wheel addresses me, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“No, it doesn’t.” I reply with a soft sigh, unsure of where to look when I feel people’s attention on me. Early days they must have thought I was a mute or something, since I would never really speak unless spoken to. There's an awkward silence that follows for what felt like hours, before he speaks up again – what I had been waiting for him to ask me.

“You doing better, now? I mean, what happened earlier.” He clarifies, staring straight at me in the mirror. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry. I... don’t really know what happened back there. Won't be happening again.” I respond in a slightly firmer tone, more to myself than anyone else, as if trying to burn the words into my mind. They have every right to have their concerns. The unspoken words around me is enough to make me feel guilty. 

“Hope not. ‘Cos fuck, you’re one of our best shots. Can’t lose you anytime soon.” Surprisingly, his words felt genuine.

I snort softly at that, easing a little, if only for a moment.

Scavenging becomes such a routine in this world that often you forget what you’re even doing, like your body just goes into automatic. But even now, I'm still afraid of the outside, afraid of _them._ Makes no difference to how many I kill. Just seeing them every waking day, enough to remind us all that our world isn’t our own anymore. Despite what others may think, that part of me lingers. _Fear._ No matter how minor it is, it remains. Because even now, there are still more of the dead than there are of the living. …If only more would remember that.

More silence fell most of the ride back, possibly due to the shock, or maybe these guys were actually well accustomed to it before my arrival. I guess they would be after so long. Either way, I don't say a word, instead focusing my attention to the floor, despite feeling gazes on me occasionally. This happens a lot. I can tell they're curious about me but no-one takes the lead. I bring my gun closer to my chest, still feeling somewhat tense the longer we drive. Supressing this sense of dread within me is made almost impossible when I become intensely aware of how quiet it is outside. No bird songs, no whistle of the wind through the towering trees; just the sound of the tires on the stretching road. It was unnerving. Only when we see the familiar gates in the distance, did the tension seem to dissipate. Finally. The Sanctuary.

Yet, upon arrival, I can’t help but notice once again how menacing the buildings appear up close, everything highly secure to barbed wire, iron plates and stationary men carrying heavy gear with its looming metallic structures in the background. Ironically, it reminds me of a prison. Maybe that’s what this place really is and I'm too caught up in my own mind to realise. The warm, amber glow of the sky only adds to the eeriness, casting most of it in darkness.

Scanning countless faces as we pass through and hearing the scrape and slam of metal closing behind us, did I finally settle and relinquish hold of my weapon. Another run with no casualties, though we were just lucky today. Following the others out of the vehicle, someone seizes me in arms the second my feet touch the floor. It's my friend, possibly my _only_ real friend here – since the term is rather loose these days – Madison. Though, my thought to return the embrace is cut short when she takes a hard swing at my arm.

“You had me worrying! You guys should have been back hours ago.” Her expressive eyes land on me. Looking closer, they appear to be slightly puffy. Has she been crying?  I watch her forcefully close her eyes a few times; trying to fight back any more tears that threaten to fall. Despite things being no fault of my own, guilt fills me instantly.

“Were we gone that long?” My brows furrow with confusion, trying a different approach.

“Yes. _You were._ And then I saw the blood…” Glaring daggers, she began glancing down my frame, seeming to be checking me over. Horror soon spreads to her face. "Oh god, you're not - "

“No. No." I murmur, looking away for a moment, unable to meet her eyes. "It’s not mine. We found a herd. Don’t worry, they won’t be following us back here.” I add reassuringly.

“You okay? No one’s hurt?”

Glancing over at the group unloading the crates of stock from the van, the supplies that we almost sacrificed ourselves for, I watch them talk amongst themselves once more. “I think we’re fine. No one’s said anything otherwise.” I reply calmly, shifting on the spot.

“Thank god. You’re the only normal person I can talk to around here... so...” Madison trails off.

A small, warm smile appears across my face, knowing what she's trying to say. With how everything is, we're fairly co-dependant on each other. “I know.” I turn from her slowly, to start assisting with the last remaining supplies, gripping tightly whilst flashing a look inside to take in its contents. Considering how our usual pick-ups are, this is pretty decent.

It was fortunate to stumble across a great deal of supplies for our infirmary and plenty of canned food. There's never too much food. While we are growing plenty of our own crops and getting produce from elsewhere, unknown to me, it seems this community is still expanding gradually, as I hear discussions of other, smaller locations. Just how large is this community? How many links does it have? How many people even? Though I can’t be loitering around here much longer _._ I need to get back to my other duties I was assigned to, before setting out. 

“So, what did you find? Anything good?” She questions, walking beside me as I carry box upon box and bag inside, the supplies rustling and clinking together each step I take.

“Quite a lot. I think it made almost dying, worth it.” I chuckle, brushing it off before looking over at her, biting the inside of my cheek as I hesitate. “We did manage to get a hold of more medical supplies, surely something in here that can help you.”

Madison pauses, her brow furrowing as she studies my face carefully. “I think you know very well what’s in there. You didn’t go out of your way to get them for me, did you?” When I can't give her a direct answer, she sighs.

“Look, they were just there. Someone else before or after us could have easily picked them up. Besides, you need them.” I say the last sentence with more force than necessary.  

She hangs her head, not saying another word as we keep walking side by side. Before long, the drawn-out silence begins to make me feel uncomfortable, my eyes flicking over to her occasionally.

Madison stares at the floor, grasping at her arm, equally as uncomfortable. “…Thank you.” And with that, I nod back. Just a small favour for a friend.

After parting ways as she returns to the food court, I take a detour to transport the rest with care. As I walk, I momentarily overlook how vast the buildings are. It’s easy to lose your way around here as everywhere looks so similar.   

While any trace of time is lost, it has been a while since I was first brought to The Sanctuary by the Saviours. Or rather, _rescued_. I say rescued because there was no way of knowing how much longer I would’ve lasted out there on my lonesome. For any drifting survivor, this is a blessing. I have a variety of duties from making and serving food in the food court, harvesting, transporting, patrolling, cleaning, to going scavenging with a group on the occasional run. The joys of choosing to work for points. Not that I'm complaining, these are just the terms to live under if one wants to stay here.

And all this is due to being in the right place at the right time, encountering their “ruler” in the midst of it all. The term leader, strikes me as being a bit of an understatement, particularly if you meet him. Flashing his signature grin and expecting you to lick his boots. Quite a character.. 

As if on queue to my wandering thoughts, my eyes catch a glimpse of _him_ outside, strolling around the premises with that same expression, enjoying every moment of his empowerment; that this whole operation is his and his alone. I observe as the men and women kneel before him without hesitance. I can’t help but scoff to myself. It was nothing like I’ve ever seen before, at least, before everything happened.

I was no fool. I knew exactly why he had first proposed the idea of heading back with him; apart from one person like myself proving no real threat to this highly populated establishment of trigger happy folk. He wasn’t subtle about it at all. I don't think subtlety rolls with him in the slightest, at least that's my impression of him. Despite that, I kept my head down and adjusted to living here the best I could. Surviving for so long on my own, it's difficult to be around people again, especially _these_ sorts of people. While some are clearly afraid, living every day as if it were their last, others are arrogant and quick tempered, jumping at the slightest opportunity to start a disturbance. I suddenly wonder if their leader moulds them into that. Which reminds me, the first days I spent here, I loathed it. I was close to packing up and leaving by any means necessary, but, thinking about it, would I rather be out there on the run, completely dependent on myself with little to no chance against raiders, or what had just occurred today, or here? This base was the best opportunity I had, and I wasn’t prepared to dismiss it so hastily. So, I had to learn to adapt, just like everyone else.

Crouching slowly, with the brush in hand and taking in the faint, crimson stains on the floor, I can only imagine what must’ve gone down in this room. Pushing it to the back of my mind, I dunk the brush in the bucket of tepid water next to me and use as much force as I can muster, scrubbing away at the flooring. I felt strangely similar to a house maid that I scoff. 

Scrubbing the floor for what feels like hours, I can feel the heavy exhaustion in my hands and arms, so I switch over to the mop, in a zone of my own, that I almost miss the sounds coming from down the hallway. My shoulders tense involuntary when the distinct sound of his whistling approaches, along with the striding footsteps. I dare not look behind me as I hear him pass; stopping my movements like a deer caught in the headlights, I try to prevent any draw of attention to me. Maybe he'll ignore me this time.

Thankfully, he keeps going without a pause. I sigh. I wasn’t fearful of him, despite what I hear about him and his infamous bat, but that doesn’t mean I particularly want his company either.

Continuing, I try to finish up as quick as I can, so I can spend what remains of the day in peace. Or so I had been hoping, when the treads return and stop dead in the doorway behind me, the hairs rising on the back of my neck. My attempts to disregard his presence ultimately fails, that deep voice travelling straight through me.

“You doing okay there, darlin’?”

_Ah shit._

 

  ***  ***  ***

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Negan is not exactly a welcome sight at this time. I sense he gets a kick out of catching me off guard. Always the opportunist. Suddenly the room feels a lot smaller than it is. I squeeze the handle tight, as if trying to let any unpleasantness on my features and stiffness from my body seep into the wood.

Being approached by him frequently and unanticipated, dismissing others around him as soon as he lays eyes on me, like that of a spotlight singling me out; I got the hint of what he was after. Well, it was out in the open from day one. I can't imagine why, after all this waiting around and especially when he has other women who would more than appreciate his company. I'm just not in the mood to be putting down his advances right now.

I let his question linger in the air for a moment, before eventually turning to face him. I know from experience it's not wise to ignore Negan, not directly anyway.

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm just finishing up here... sir." I add reluctantly, which earns me a huff. I suddenly wonder if I'm supposed to be somewhere else with the way he watches me continue mopping. ...I don't even know why I'm putting so much effort in at this point. No one expects these floors to be immaculate.

"I hear you had trouble."

My brows furrow, pondering to what he's referring to. A little too late does realization sink in. Well his piercing stare isn't exactly helping.

I half shrug. "Nothing I - we couldn't handle. You know how it is." I feel an urge to bite the inside of my cheek.

Spotting a smirk tugging at his lips, Negan continues to hold my gaze. "Yeah, I know." He twists his grip on Lucille, like he's trying to distract himself from something. "If anyone can handle that shit, you can doll."

I try to not let the adoration get to my head, knowing he's most likely buttering me up. "I appreciate that." I thank shortly, wanting to keep this exchange equally as short.

"Would've been a damn shame if we lost ya."

Well shit, that actually sounds sincere.

I simply nod as Negan gives the impression he wishes to say more. In the silence, I'm given the opportunity to take all of him in. I know I speak for many when I say Negan has a certain magnetism about him, one that makes your walls crumble and fall to your knees. I've thought about it before. Yes, he's attractive. Deadly attractive. Everything about this man is. And to me, it isn't even due to him being the alpha male of this place, so to speak.

It's hard to identify what it is exactly. Despite being so indifferent in the beginning - mostly due to the more pressing matters of survival and working here - the longer I stayed and the more I saw him around the Sanctuary, I was soon just another caught in his palm. It's no wonder a great quantity of men in here kind of aspire to be like him, practically seeping with envy. Though it doesn't necessarily mean they all _like_ him. It's the same set up when everybody tries to suck up to that one cool guy for their own benefit.

Even through these uncomfortable moments, I'm still grateful to him for taking me in, regardless of the intentions. He could have easily left me out there.

"I see you're fitting in well - making friends." He starts, blowing the chances of leaving anytime soon. "Like that pretty little thing I see you with a lot."

A rush of protectiveness overtakes me, but I refuse to act on it. "Not really. I don't think people here are too fond of me. Not that I have a problem with that, we're all just doing what we're doing."

"Not what I hear, doll." Negan's scoff breaks into my contemplation as he points at me. "You seem more fucking popular than you think. The people here talk about you a lot. My men especially."

I grimace, I can only imagine what must be said. He reads my expression and chuckles.

"Not that, baby. I hear any of that, I shut that shit down quick, but if I didn't know any better, I'd say they find you fucking intimidating. Tails between their legs." He smiles slyly. "So, can't blame me for being curious, besides finding you super fucking hot."

I'm not sure what to feel from all this. "Oh." Was all I could say, though hiding a smirk to myself. They were intimidated by me? _Good_. Nevertheless, I feel our chat has gone on long enough. I bite my lip and lean my weight to one side. "Was there something else you wanted?"

Negan's eyes darken instantly, his smile dropping as he saunters around the room, inching closer. I feel the air leave my lungs as he gives me my answer through roaming eyes. Undoubtedly taking my question as a challenge. "You know there fucking is. And you love every second of knowing it, don't you? _Shit."_ He briefly scoffs, running a hand down his salt and pepper beard. "You're not that good of an actress. You've been teasing me a lot baby and you should know, I don't like to be fucking teased."

My heart begins to race to his words with feeble attempts to compose myself as he wets his lips. I hate when he does that.

"Don't think you're the first woman to play hard to get, darlin'. Never fucking lasts. Like that shits supposed to make them feel better about themselves or something. I've seen it a lot with widows. A fucking waste of time I could have filled pleasing that young, tight little body of yours."

God, he's drawing this out as much as possible. Trying to work me up, building that whirlwind of lust.  

"Avoiding me on purpose but I hear the way your little pussy skips a beat around me. Even now, I don't hear you fucking denying this. I guarantee you'd enjoy yourself." Negan speaks lowly, borderline growling as he comes closer. If I didn't know the kind of man he was, I would've thought he was begging. Begging me to say the word. Give permission for him to take what he wants. "And I would very, very much enjoy, showing you."

_Fuck._

And that's all it takes. That single word of submission, he wouldn't hold back. Right here, right now. I know he'd be more than willing. My jaw tightens. Call it pride or stubbornness, or generally wanting to hope I was better than to think of... sex as a priority right now, I say nothing but keep eye contact. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction, however exceptionally hard it is to ignore the building warmth beneath my navel. Eventually he backs down, stepping away with a breathy laugh, cracking a grin.

"Hot damn. Fucking points for stability though." The older man muses. "My offer's been open for a while now, sweetheart. I hate to be kept waiting. Not everyone's as lucky as you." He swings his beloved Lucille over to rest on his shoulder as he states in his most confident voice. "You and I know you'd fucking love it."

I'm still too stumped for words as I stand on the spot, merely watching, to his further amusement. Flashing one last grin as a parting, he strides out to leave me to my thoughts with a smug, satisfied expression, like he did what he had set out to do. 

 

 

Nightfall soon came once more on the Sanctuary, the amount of activity inside the walls finally beginning to settle. I'm thankful it's not my shift for the night, as I'm shattered from today's earlier run. At this rate, I'll have more than enough points to last considerably. It's strange. I feel an odd sense of belonging when I help the commune. Assisting the people who need care more than others, particularly the women and children. Walking from post to post, every now and then I catch sight of kids playing like the world wasn't ending. There weren't many here, but even in this environment, in this community, there were still children. It was reassuring to know this place does take in families too. I just felt content knowing all of us were getting them through another day - as much as I feel the decision to raise a child in this world was absurd.

Tending to the crops always bring back old, happy memories as I carefully remove the ripe, plump tomatoes and various other vegetables we've learned to appreciate these days. I spent some time reading on my bed earlier, ignoring the sounds of brawls going on outside my window. I just needed some solitude, to escape into something. I actually wanted to begin writing myself before the outbreak, but never had enough time. I barely had enough time for my art. 

Sometime later, I find myself in the food court, sitting at my own table after helping to prepare the meals for the countless hungry mouths to feed. Being left to my own devices, I start eating and let my eyes wander, taking in all the separate groups of people scattered around the room. I can't help but wonder if these people knew each other before, or if unfortunate circumstances brought them together. Then it suddenly occurs to me again that I haven't come across any of my family or friends since this all started. Everything that happened was so vivid in my memory but never did I have the chance to search for my family, to make sure they were safe. I don't know if they are alive or dead, nor do I have a way of knowing. I was still hopeful that one day I'd see them again, but every day I feel that hope slipping away from me.

Upon looking around, of course I spot Negan enter the room with several of his men trailing behind, including his right-hand man, Simon. In his hand however, is one of his wives, wrapped around his arm like a vice in their usual clad of black. I rarely see his wives around the Sanctuary, meaning they must spend most of their time either in his room or somewhere more private.

Moments later, I look up from my meal again to catch that he's staring at me - Why's he staring at me?

My thoughts just stutter as I feel very conscious of his predatory gaze the more I try to ignore it. The woman currently perching on his lap, whispers something in his ear but he takes little interest. I glance away to try and distract myself by continuing to tuck into my dinner, but my curiosity fuels me to eventually meet his eyes again. I watch him take in a deep breath when I gnaw the inside of my lip. I shoot him a hard scowl, but it only makes him smirk back. It felt like a more adult version of a disgusting chick flick scene.

Thank heavens, Madison appears and comes over to join me, tearing my attention away. She smiles in greeting and hovers for a moment over the table.

"You mind?"

"Not at all." I say lightly, watching her take a seat opposite me as my body relaxes all at once.

I catch a sly smile appearing on her lips. "Thanks. It seemed like you needed help."

Grunting disdainfully, I stab at the meat with more force than necessary before holding my hands up to stop her firmly. "I'm not talking about it."

"Alright, fine." She submits, shrugging as she begins eating, letting us sit in silence for a bit. I can sense the topic eating away at her though, especially when I feel her eyes watching my every move. She manages a full ten minutes before she starts cracking, opening and closing her mouth. 

"Madison - "

"I know, I know, but don't you think it's time you did? I can't sit back seeing how much this is bothering you. To the point that it's affecting your work. Plus, this is still as frustrating to watch as it was when I first caught on. You've been avoiding it long enough." She presses, glancing over in their direction as I pick away at my food. I reluctantly follow her gaze to catch Negan with his starving lips all over his wife, his hand snaking up her thigh. The sight alone almost made me lose my appetite.

"Well, suddenly I don't feel as hungry." I sigh deeply, giving an unpleasant smile before dropping in the next second, focusing hard on my food.

Madison leans back in her seat, shaking her head at me. Seems she wasn't having any of it today. "See what I mean? You need closure to this already. And the highlight of all this is, you're acting like it's the worst possible thing you'll ever do if you agree. Stop being so middle class about it." She scoffs, her voice teasing now. "Were you raised that way?"

I grimace. "You've no idea." Not a door I wish to open. There were.. other reasons too.

Her posture returns serious as she leans in close. "Hey.. I get you're being cautious. You're always cautious and I respect that. And you have every right to be. There's some sick people in here and out there but there's a _reason_ you haven't rejected him outright." Hitting the nail on the head, she shoots me a look. "That and you're not easily swayed. Look, I'm not encouraging you to jump on his dick, but just act on whatever choice you choose _soon."_

Feeling like an open book, I roll my eyes and finish my meal. This felt too much like school talk that I cringe. It didn't seem like a big deal when someone else said it, but this situation was the last wall between settling in smoothly into the Sanctuary once and for all. Time passes as we drift from topic to topic of conversation, mostly about trivial things. I take into account as she talks that she's done a lot more jobs inside the walls recently..

"Hey, when's your next run? I could try and persuade them to let you into our next ride out." I ask, a little hopeful.

"Oh, uh. I'm not sure. I asked Simon if I could have a break from runs and he said if only I continue working here. It's only temporary until I'm a little better. I don't want to be a burden to anyone outside, so. I still do post patrols, though."

I have a feeling that wasn't the real reason. "Shame. There's plenty of action out there you're missing. What better person to have _your_ back than _me?"_ Scoffing, I glance out the window to observe the people guarding the gate. With a click of my tongue, I turn back to her. "See how you feel in a few days then?"

"Yeah. We'll see."

"Alright. Though I feel I should warn you, my guys often like to blast music as we drive out."

Madison laughs in disbelief. "That doesn't sound smart."

"They just don't give a shit." I give a shrug, half-smirking. "I don't even think after what happened today, they'll be put off by it. They'll still be at it again next time, blowing out the speakers as usual. I'm sure anyone can hear us."

"Wow. It almost sounds like you have fun on your runs."

"That's quite a stretch." I chuckle. "I wouldn't call them fun, even on good days. Definitely not today."

Madison cracks a humourless smile. "No. That was a bit _too_ much action." She mumbles, giving me a look that spoke volumes. That clearly was the end of that conversation.

Lost among our exchanges and my own thoughts, I hardly notice the other people dispersing from the food court. I give a sigh when Madison reluctantly gets up and utters a goodnight when she is ushered away to help patrol the fences. Naturally, I'm last to clean up and leave the eerily empty room.

Before curfew, I decide to sit by my lonesome on the steps outside my bunk, whittling a block of wood I had brought back. Something I picked up from my uncle before everything happened and now a perfect way to pass the time between different work shifts. As I scrape and carve, guiding the blade, soft growls across from meters away remind me I wasn't quite alone. I lift my head to see a roamer or two feeling at the fence of their caged areas, another nearby missing both their arms, captured and chained up to be used for prisoners and probably general troublemakers inside the walls, if Negan doesn't decide to kill them on the spot that is. I find they're also a warning to what happens if someone decides to step out of line. They're barely visible in the dark and from this far away, but I still make out their swaying silhouettes.

I must have been zoning out that I didn't even notice I'm bleeding until it's trickling down my finger and to my palm. It's so freaking easy to prick or cut yourself doing this. I pull out some old forgotten cloth in my pocket to wrap around it tightly. It had been trickling down towards my ring so I wipe it off quickly and thoroughly. I'll put something on it later.

"You still out here breaking curfew?" A shadow approaches to my right with the crunch of gravel beneath his feet. The voice thick with authority. Oh, it's just Simon.

"Ah, shit." I apologise, hopping to my feet with a sigh, wood and knife still in hand. I obviously lost track of time more than I thought. I didn't even hear any announcement of curfew being in effect.

Simon stops at the foot of the stairs and looks at me questioningly when he stares at the trapped walkers across from us. "Enjoying the view?"

"No. But they're right outside my fucking door." I reply dryly.

Kind of hard to avoid looking at them.

He watches them for a while with a hum before looking to me again. Despite Simon _seeming_ like an honest man - he did have that air about him - I was still wary. He could certainly be holding more secrets than anyone else here. After all, being Negan's other eye, anything that happened out there and in here, makes its way back to him one way or another.

Walking up the metal steps, I pause in the doorway, glancing at him over my shoulder. "Alright, I'm going. Let me guess, I'll be punished for this later?"

Simon looks to be considering it for a long moment, his eyes squinting. "As long as it's not a habit, won't breathe a word. I doubt he would favour hearing about you breaking the rules. That would make things more complicated. Wouldn't want that, now would we?"

"No, we wouldn't." I return, finding that a little unexpected as I begin heading inside and closing the heavy door behind me.

With a short walk down the corridor, I enter my sleeping quarters where my roommate is already snoring away in the darkness. Locating my bed, I collapse with a tired groan, staring up at the ceiling as I recall todays events. I roll to the side to be greeted with the chipped, stained wall, covering myself up with a blanket I'd scavenged. If the next few days were going to be anything like the day I'd just had, I need all the energy I can get.

 

 *** *** ***

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

***  ***  ***

 

“You coming, baby? Please don’t leave me to deal with them on my own.” A voice comes from below. 

I stand in front of my mirror, just taking in my reflection as the nerves continue to swallow me whole that my stomach begins churning. Taking in a deep breath to steady myself, I smooth down my dress. I can only imagine what’s in store for us, if I even manage the courage to take the bull by the horns at all. Sighing softly, I make my way downstairs, treading carefully until I’m met with that warm, inviting smile.

“Damn. You look… beautiful.” He stares at me adoringly, the heat rushing to my cheeks.

“So do you.” I say, approaching him with a devilish smirk as he scoffs at my return of affection.  

“Wish I was as collected as you. God knows what your parents are going to say and do… At least we’ll have potential witnesses tonight.”

I throw my arms around his shoulders, holding him close. “Come on, Patrick. It’s such a cliché that fathers will kill knowing their daughter’s expecting.”

He gestures. “Can we not tell them one at a time? Let them process the whole engagement thing first, before dropping the bombshell of a grandchild.”

“Nope.” I laugh in my throat, my grin growing wider as Patrick groans.  

“I know the kind of shit you pull. If you leave me alone with your family for a second – “

“Baby…” I lean in to halt his train of thoughts with a soft kiss. “Stop fretting. No matter what happens, everything will turn out fine. Now, here's what we do. We go out, have dinner like a family, we’ll talk and listen to my dad droning on about the weather, his incompetent work colleagues and how I should get a _real_ job… and when the timing’s right, we tell them we’re planning to get married and have a baby on the way. Okay?”

Patrick considers me for a moment, before breaking into his usual sarcastic self, smiling. “Sure. That's it. Sounds easy. You know what they're gonna say, right?”

“Trust me, it won’t be as challenging as you're making it.” A mischievous snicker comes to the surface. “I have an idea, but with plenty of other people dining, they’ll have no choice but to keep calm. My family are not the type to make a scene.”

There’s a pause. “That’s devious.”

“I know.”

Patrick shakes his head slowly, his eyes studying my face with a deep intake of breath. The number of thoughts that must be rushing through his head. “Okay. Alright. Let’s go.” He swiftly wraps an arm around me, pulling me to his chest before planting a kiss on the top of my head. He begins slipping on his coat, heading towards the door. “Face the demons.”

I turn to him, somewhat amused. “Excuse me?”

“ _My_ demons. I mean my demons.”

 

***  ***  ***

 

Feeling the cool water cascade down my form and against my skin, draws a deep sigh out of me. Just the concept of morning showers – or having showers at all – during the end of the world is bliss. It’s like another small moment of normalcy between the moments of scavenging and evading flesh-eating monsters. I must’ve spent over an hour in here the first time I learned about the Sanctuary’s running water supply and working electricity.

A few days passed since the curfew incident to which I was more careful after that. As one would expect, they wouldn’t be as forgiving if there was a next time.

Finishing up and feeling refreshed, I make my way to the food court, passing countless others in morning routines of their own. It’s reasonably early that there’s plenty of empty seats around. Though as more saviours begin to pile into the room with me, I try and glance over their shoulders, searching for that familiar face. But it doesn’t come. I look around elsewhere, hoping to catch a glimpse of that blonde hair. But there’s nothing. Madison’s still nowhere to be seen. At this point, it’s becoming no coincidence that I’ve not come upon her around the Sanctuary for some time. I figured it was a result of clashing work schedules, but maybe it’s because she’s been feeling worse… When you have very minimal friends nowadays, it’s easy to spot when something’s out of place.

“Screw it.” I say to myself as I rise out of my seat.

Without another thought, I travel through the many, many hallways until I finally find her room. It’s still dim inside as I knock as gently as possible on the wall. Spotting her form curled up on the bed and a glass of water on her bedside, I swiftly move to her side. I knew she told me she hadn’t been outside the walls, but I take time to check her over for bites anyway, as much as I’m able to after I feel her temperature.

This is out of my hands, so trying not to wake her, I leave to take a detour to the doctor’s office. Carson assures me once again that it’s nothing serious when I bring him back to her room for another check-up, just ensures me that she gets plenty of rest and fluids. It should be convincing, but its not, as my mind doesn’t settle. How much nutrition is she even getting right now? Has she been working at all? I'll need someone’s help with that, or rather permission. Great.

So. Hovering outside his door, biting my lip and mentally preparing myself, I finally knock. There’s a long moment before a hoarse voice is calling me in. Closing the door behind me, I’m met with a somewhat dishevelled Negan. The sight is new and unexpected that I’m openly guilty of staring. He clearly looks to be expecting someone else, judging by the expression on his face but he certainly doesn’t seem to mind.

“Well, hello there. This is a fucking pleasant surprise. You’ve already made my morning.” He studies me, a smirk growing. “What can I do for you?”

“I have a request.”

His eyebrows shoot up, pulling his door open and motioning me inside. It’s been a long time since I was last in his quarters – when we had _that_ talk. I briefly look around as Negan passes me to enter his kitchen area, unsurprisingly near his drinks cabinet too, anticipating another long discussion I bet. He gestures. “Well I’m fucking listening darlin’.”

“This may not sound practical to you. But is it possible to give my shares to a friend of mine. She’s not been working much due to illness, so she’s a bit scarce, whereas I have more than what I need currently. The doctor says it’s nothing serious but who knows how long that’ll last. I’m not requesting much, just a few days’ worth. Food, water, medicine. Just until she’s on her feet again.” I explain.

“Listen…” Negan begins, coming off to approach me slightly. “It’s really fucking sweet what you’re trying to do, but shit just don’t work like that around here. You wanna stay here, you gotta work. Earn your keep. If any word got out that I allowed this, every damn asshole and their mother would come to me begging for the same fucking favour, using this as an excuse for motherfuckers who don’t do shit around here to get those extra little privileges. Gotta keep the little pricks in line, peaches.”  

I take a deep breath. “It’s not like they haven’t been worked for.” I speak a little too firmly as I stand my ground, annoyed at the situation rather than his refusal.

“I know that, doll. I’m sure you’ve worked reasonably hard for them. But the answer is no.”

“Nor would I tell a soul. It’s not their business.” I decide to add.

“I know that too. However it would get out one way or another. Everything that happens in here does.”

I’m unable to think of another way around this. Apart from just lying to their faces, saying I was given permission by Negan anyway – but again, the slightest word and the saviours would talk about it. The topic would spread like wild-fire with several trying the same method. It would eventually come back to bite me. Hard. Maybe I could smuggle… but I’m not sure if I should test my luck _again,_ since I feel watched from every damn corner of this place _._ I hadn’t had faith of his agreement, but now I’m just back where I started.

“Then what _can_ I do?” I ask, slightly dejected. Before I even give him time to answer though, I groan and turn on my heel. “Fine. Forget it. Seems you can’t be reasoned with.”

“Just wait a fucking minute, sweetheart. I know what you’re fucking doing.” He stops me in my tracks, a devilish grin appearing as he approaches me. “I know you’re hoping to get a rise out of me and take advantage of the fact that I hate to see a woman displeased. Trying to get me fucking whipped, but I’m onto you.”

Feeling involuntary amusement tugging at the corner of my lips, I turn back, placing a hand on my hip with a quirk of my brow. “Damn. You saw through that?” Why do I get the feeling his grin will be contagious the more I spend in his presence?

Negan ducks his head to chuckle. “Look at you. Coming in here and trying to put me in my place. Shit, baby. I won’t lie, you’ve given me half a fucking hard on, on the fucking spot. But I think you need reminding of who you’re talking to.”

From the force of his stare alone, I feel I am cemented in place, knowing this hint of seriousness underneath his amusing tone. 

“I like you, but that doesn’t mean free fucking passes. Rules are rules, baby.” He rumbles, talking to me almost like he was disciplining a child – which I wasn't fond of. “I know there’s risks from sickness these days; sometimes they pass in their fucking sleep. I can tell you’ve seen that shit too. But Carson told you it’s nothing serious, right? So as soon as your friend recovers from the fucking sniffles, she’ll be back to working like normal. That’s the way shit goes.”

That’s – true. Somehow hearing him lay it out like that or just having a second opinion on the matter, oddly eases my worried thoughts. I may be mistaken, but it seems like he's honestly trying to reassure me. It pays to be cautious of course, but maybe I’m just anticipating the worst with Madison.

I nod reluctantly, running a hand through my wavy hair, which he follows closely. “Alright. I may be getting too worked up about it…” Trailing off, I shake my head and step back towards the door. “I appreciate you for not laughing in my face at such an absurd idea.”

“I get it. You have someone you care about.” Negan shrugs a little dismissively. “I may be an asshole but not _that_   kind of asshole. You’ll find out very soon I’m more reasonable than you think.”

It couldn’t be helped I guess. I lean against the door, feeling like I should take my leave before he suddenly speaks up louder, shattering my thoughts.

“I hate to leave you doll, but I have places to be and shit to handle.” As he comes closer again with Lucille now in his grip, his warm, natural scent becomes so enticing.

In that instant, I have a longing to be wrapped around him. I find myself just wanting to embrace it and breathe him in deeply. He leans a little too close without even asking me to move, to open the door behind me, when he unexpectedly lingers there for a moment to pull back ever so slowly. Did he notice me tense? Or the hitch in my breath, or was my heart just beating _that_ loud?

The space between us is slim. Watching the rise and fall of his chest, I feel like I’m closed in, but he makes no indication that he’s planning to act on anything. God, I’ve never encountered a man like Negan before so I have little experience with handling situations like these. Undoubtedly, he can sense the heat as my sudden need for him completely fogs my mind. The more I think about it, the more I feel that same rousing feeling in the pit of my stomach. It's always the same, whatever defences or hard-ass attitude I have, he breaks them down almost skilfully. All in that brief moment, I witness his pupils dilating as he rakes down my form again with his eyes, undressing me slowly. I realize he’s waiting for me to make the move. Anticipating it. And it has been too long since I’ve had that physical touch or intimacy with another human being…

Before my body can lean forward on its own accord, he pulls away to leave me entranced for a second. I bite my lip. After lasting so fucking long, I don’t think I’ll be able to take much more of this.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, my wives won’t screw themselves… well, they might. _Fuck._ I’m sure they already fucking have.” Negan chuckles, motioning me outside first.

As soon as I’m back out in the hallway with him within an inch behind me, I say dryly. “They'd have to.”

He turns to me with a genuine flash of offence, quickly morphing into the most fiendish grin I’ve ever seen from him yet. I feel it won’t be the last either. He lifts a hand to point at me briefly before swinging Lucille over his shoulder. Negan doesn’t say anything else as he strides off, whistling cheerfully. Though when I walk away in the opposite direction, brushing my ring with my finger, I feel eyes on the back of me.  

Hearing a spur of activity outside I halt in the doorway, spotting two large vans parked in front of the gate. I focus my attention to the several saviours that climb inside, including who I can only assume is Simon closing the door behind them. My feet carry me outside in an attempt to settle my curiosity, finding a saviour nearby also observing the scene before me. I wonder if I’m the only one that doesn’t know what’s going on here.

“What’s happening?” I ask the stranger, who looks me over before answering.

“What's it to you?” He sneers but I flash him a warning look in the same second. “Collection. They set out like this, they always come back with a shitload of supplies. Good shit, too. Don’t know where they go, but it’s gotta be traders or something.”

Oh. So this was the retrieval of produce I've heard wind about. Sure, traders. Not taking by force? If that was the true nature of this place, it honestly wouldn't surprise me. “So, this is a reoccurring thing?”

“Yeah. Where do you think most of our supplies come from? All from runs? No. Not for this many people.” He turns to me, frowning.

Processing his words, I look back to watch them leave. I have thought about how huge the community is and its connections, but now with potential confirmation of other groups trading or _doing labour for us_ … hm. Negan has more power than I originally thought.

Before long, it’s my group’s time to head off once again, just when it felt like I was barely back from our last run. I wonder what hell we’re in for this time. To my surprise, Madison makes an appearance to see me off – maybe because she felt guilty about not coming out with me. I don’t know _why_ she’s even outside though, considering she’s supposed to be in _bed_. To make the moment better, as expected, the boys are already announcing themselves to the dead with their choice of booming music. I’m sure our brains will be turning to mush within minutes. Forget walkers. It only encourages me to pull a finger gun to my head and blow my brains out with a blank expression. Despite Madison cracking a smile, I’m suddenly far more distracted by another unforeseen sight of Negan upon the balcony, with a wife and Dwight standing beside him. I’ve seen her face before too.

As I load my weapon, he’s definitely staring straight at me. His behaviour I can’t help but find confusing at times like these. What reason does he have for seeing me off? This time it’s not quite short lived as he continues to stand there watching us prepare. Whatever reason, he looks deep in thought, briefly glancing at Madison before back at me. 

“You all set?” Our driver asks, leaning over in his seat to address me. 

I shrug it off and cock the gun before nodding as the last person climbs inside the truck to sit next to me. While our main priority is always supplies, I have a strong feeling Negan wouldn’t turn down the opportunity for new blood working for him, so when we do occasionally come across other survivors on the road, sometimes we make the offer. And if they are still willing after laying out terms and ground rules, we take them back. It’s a cautious procedure of course, so it doesn’t hurt to keep a watchful eye on them whilst another holds a knife to their jugular. You never know. It doesn’t always go smoothly.

“Alright! We’re rollin’!” The same guy yells cheerily over the music as we drive out at full pedal. Anyone would think we didn’t encounter a herd days ago. The others clearly don’t have the same amount of energy as this guy; most of them slouching in sitting positions with their weapons in their laps. It occurs to me that I should try and learn the names of these people..

The feeling of protection from inside the walls of the Sanctuary slowly fades as we drive further and further away, leaving it all behind once more. In the distance, I spot Negan finally turn to step back inside with everyone else following suit. At this point, I still couldn’t believe how much this guy is getting to me.

With my best effort, I try to speak loud enough over the deafening music. “Remember, don’t waste ammo unless you have to!”

“What?!”

“I said don’t waste ammo unless – “

“What?!” He interrupts, a beaming smile in the mirror.

“Oh, piss off!”

 

***  ***  ***

 

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in progress for a long while haha, had to focus on studies. I've been greatly inspired to write this story, so here it is.
> 
> >> SERIOUS NOTE: While there is a mention of rape in this fanfic, it is brief and not graphic. I will make a post at the beginning of the chapter where it is contained as a warning for those who need it. <<
> 
> Hope you enjoy guys, I'm having a lot of fun writing it and always appreciate feedback as I want to improve. :) Hmm, though I may extend this chapter in the future. 
> 
> \- PLAYLIST -  
> https://8tracks.com/into-the-fire5/_-red-sky-at-morning-_


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